


He Thinks He Could Get Used To It

by fennecfawkes



Series: Two Sides, One Coin [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton Feels, Dollar Pizza and Cheap Whiskey, Getting Together, Love and Marriage, M/M, Recruitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennecfawkes/pseuds/fennecfawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two sides to every story. Runs parallel to "Seems Like Your Type." Still not my characters. Written for ClintCoulson_Lives!</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Thinks He Could Get Used To It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/gifts).



“It seems like I’m getting followed by guys in suits more often than usual.”

The bartender—Ron, Clint thinks that’s his name, but he’s never bothered to remember much about him—snorts. “G-men on your tail?”

“Looks like it.” Clint takes a long pull of his very cheap whiskey. “One of them’s pretty hot, actually. The one who’s nearly caught me.”

“What are you hiding from, anyway?” Ron—Clint’s just assuming that’s his name at this point, it’s easier than referring to him as “the bartender” over and over again in his mind—cocks his head to the side. “Didn’t you say you’re trying to live cleanly these days? No more mercenary, all that?”

“What makes you think they want to hire me rather than kill me?”

“Fair.”

Clint finishes his whiskey and puts down a few extra dollars. “Always a pleasure.” Ron nods, and Clint stands and walks out the door of the bar. He has just enough time to notice it got dark while he was in there when, quite suddenly, there’s a searing pain in his left leg and he’s knocked down onto the curb.

.

The pretty hot guy in the suit’s offering Clint a job, and he’s not listening to the details because he already heard “place to stay” and “food,” and that’s better than any hurting-people-for-hire gig has given him. Sure, he’s got his shithole apartment, and a steady diet of dollar pizza and cheap liquor isn’t _too_ expensive, but this sounds better.

“—your sense of humor,” Suit Guy finishes, and Clint’s sure whatever came before was at least a little interesting, but he disregards that.

“Sold,” he says, pulling out his most charming smile. He tries to put some weight on his left leg and just catches himself before it crumbles beneath him. “Wait. Food and shelter. Medical?”

Suit Guy asks Clint why he’s asking.

“Oh, you know, clean bill of health’s important,” says Clint, only being evasive for a moment before adding, “Also, I’m pretty sure my kneecap and tibia are broken.”

Suit Guy is cute when he’s frustrated. Clint could learn to like Suit Guy.

.

It only takes him two years to kiss Suit Guy. Coulson. Phil. And Phil—who Clint is now giving himself permission to call “Phil,” on account of having had his tongue in the guy’s mouth—doesn’t seem to have a huge problem with that. At the very least, Phil doesn’t seem embarrassed when Natasha arrives in the middle of everything, “everything” being Clint covering Coulson’s body with his while they make out on the floor of the safehouse. Clint had warned her he was going to do it, but he’d been warning her that he was going to make a move on Phil for five solid months and hadn’t done a damn thing. So it’s his fault. Probably.

“We do have to sign some forms,” Phil says to him on the ride home. Nat’s pretending to be asleep across from them, and Clint knows Phil knows she’s not, but apparently they’re talking about this anyway. “Even though once the Avengers Initiative picks up, I’ll be more of a colleague than an SO, you’re still my subordinate.”

“Fury gonna care?” Clint’s holding Phil’s hand. It’s been that way for three hours. Apparently Phil is into holding hands. Clint can work with that.

Phil shakes his head. “He was sure we’d get together from the time I broke your leg.”

“And fixed it,” Clint says.

“Before that, actually.”

“So that’s what we’re doing, then?” Clint asks. “We’re getting together?”

“If that’s what you want,” says Phil.

“Yeah,” Clint says, squeezing Phil’s hand. “Yeah, it is. Has been for a while, really.” He pauses. “Look, we can talk more about this whenever, but what’s the Avengers Initiative?”

.

It takes Phil six months to propose and Clint two seconds to say yes, and for four months, before Pegasus, before Loki, before _everything_ , their world is a perfect place. Every Saturday they’re not in the field, they’re ordering Thai and watching Hitchcock movies and kissing like teenagers till they make their way toward lazy sex and long, shared showers. Clint’s never been content like this before. He thinks he could get used to it.

.

Everything’s tinged blue and Clint doesn’t have to think about anything, but traces of memories—hands soft with just the right amount of callouses, hyper-specific dishwashing methods, homemade maple butter blondies—keep trying to get him to do it anyway.

.

“So we are going to talk about it, though, right?” Clint asks.

“I thought we just did.”

“We agreed to renew our wedding vows and we said we love each other but somehow, I don’t think that’s enough.” Clint squirts some shampoo into the palm of his hand and slicks up Phil’s hair. The scar’s impossible to avoid, but Clint doesn’t hate that it’s there. It’s just physical evidence of how incredibly _strong_ Phil is, that he survived that, that they’re together, and—Clint feels his throat closing up and concentrates on washing Phil’s hair. Phil seems to appreciate the effort.

“What would be enough?” Phil asks.

“What were you thinking?” Clint says it softly so Phil knows he’s not angry, just confused, because none of the superheroic fuckups he now spends the majority of his time with would take on Loki by themselves, so why Phil?

“It was to distract him. From you. From all of you.” Phil pauses. “Mostly you.”

“You used yourself as a distraction?” Clint doesn’t think about what he’s doing as he pulls Phil to him, locks his hands behind Phil’s neck, squeezes. Phil’s arms are around Clint’s waist, and he’s holding tightly, too. “You know how much bigger you are than that, right? And not just for me. For everyone.” Clint kisses him, and Phil kisses back, and if there are tear tracks in addition to all the water that’s already there on both of their faces, then they’ve got nothing to apologize for. This is worth emotion. This is more worth emotion than anything that’s come before it.

“I don’t,” Phil says finally, after they’ve kissed the breath near out of each other. “But I don’t think you have any idea how grateful I am that you’re here to remind me.”

“I might have some idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> I never, ever, EVER write from Clint's perspective since Phil's my spirit animal and I identify with him much more strongly. But I tried anyway! And it might not suck!


End file.
